


Soft Around The Edges

by florastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, chubby!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1470574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florastiel/pseuds/florastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retired Dean finds he doesn't fit into his old hunter clothes, and Cas is there for comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft Around The Edges

Damn me. Dean thought, digging through the near empty drawers in his dresser in search of an acceptable pair of pants. But he’d forgotten to do laundry, again, thinking it was Sam’s turn to do laundry, again.

But it wasn’t. It was his, and now he’s left rummaging through old clothes to find an acceptable pair of pants. Damn him.

After several minutes of back and forth with himself, - these aren’t too faded, right? - and several denied pairs, he finally finds something. A pair of blue jeans stuffed in the back of a drawer, slightly faded from use and harsh wash cycles. From his hunting days, presumably, because no matter how many cheap detergents and laundry days had worn on this thing, there was still a few flecks of blood near the waistband. But that could be covered by a shirt, he reckoned, and turned his back to the door and unfolded the old denim.

Okay. These fit a few years ago, he’s pretty sure. So why do they feel… off? Try as he might, he can’t shake the tightness of the material around his thighs, the bite of fabric against his hips.

Stubbornly, Dean gripped the belt loops tighter and pulled, but the jeans wouldn’t give. Meaning, to Dean’s chagrin, they weren’t getting any bigger. Buttoning them, too, become apparently out of the question.

“Son of a bitch.”

…  
“Ugh! Hummmph!”

Cas turned his head towards the strange sound, pausing mid-step in the hallway to listen. He squinted at Dean’s door as he realized the origin of such noises, wondering what could possibly make him sound so… flustered. Cas felt his ears heat up as he moved to poke his head soundlessly through the opening, and nearly giggled at what he saw.

There stood Dean Winchester, struggling to fit into a pair of jeans.

Remaining as quiet as possible, he nudged the door open far enough to slip in as Dean raised his arms to scrub his hands over his face in agitation. Cas’ smile widened as he sneaked up behind the other man, taking a moment to observe the tan skin dusted with freckles, the muscles moving underneath as Dean reached down to absently pick at the hem of the problematic jeans.

Dean started as Cas pressed himself against Dean’s backside, but quickly melted into the warm embrace as Cas’ hands roamed up and over his shoulders.

“Hey.” Cas murmured against Dean’s neck before pressing a soft kiss there.

Dean turned his head to meet Cas for a real kiss, even if short and sweet. “I think I’m getting fat, babe.” He joked dryly, turning back to wearily eye the pudge of fat on his stomach he hasn’t realized was there until today. “Can’t fit into my old pants anymore.”

“No,” Cas hushed, wrapping his arms around Dean’s middle and resting his chin on his shoulder. “I think it’s cute. Your tummy.” He moved his hands to smooth along Dean’s stomach, lightly kneading the soft flesh there. While he never quite lost the mindset of a hunter, Cas actually liked that Dean had lost the hard edges of one. Physical edges included. Sure, he’d put on a few pounds after they settled down in the bunker, but that was good. That meant they had good food, and they weren’t always running it off.

Dean just rolled his eyes at that, but still there was a fond smile quirking the corners of his mouth.

“It doesn’t matter if one pair of pants don’t fit,” Cas persisted, ghosting his hands along the waistband of said pants. “But, I do think you should take them off.”

Dean really snickered at that, stepping away from Cas momentarily in order to pull the loathed things off. He doesn’t remember where they went after that, exactly. He just remembers Cas knocking him onto the bed, and nearly smothering him with a kiss as he leaned over Dean.

“I really am serious. I do like your chubby belly.” Cas breathed against Dean’s jaw, but he’s not sure Dean heard as he punctuated the sentence by sucking a feverish mark onto the skin there.

Oh well. He’ll be sure to remind him tomorrow morning.


End file.
